Something
by Felicity G. Silvers
Summary: Steve measures time in weight. If he thinks about it, he can almost pinpoint the moment he started.


A few weeks ago I wrote There's Nothing There - fanfictiondotnet (slash)s(slash)8799441(slash)1(slash)There-s-Nothing-There - and thought that was the end of that. Agent Steve Rogers politely informed me that, no, actually, he would like to share his side of this Not Thing.

This is only a companion piece; reading the other isn't required at all, only gives some insight to Loki's side of things. What you do need to know:

This is a human, modern day AU. SHIELD still exists, the cast are all just extraordinary humans, Thor and Loki are also both human, and there's not anything supernatural going on.

Warnings: eating disorder, eating issues, weight.

Enjoy, and I hope you're all having lovely holidays and have a lovely New Year.

* * *

Steve measures time in weight.

He knows that at some point (before Loki), he measured it the way other people measure time—in seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, the spinning of the Earth around the sun.

Now (after Loki), he measures it in weight.

"Here," he offers, leaning over the couch and around Loki, lips brushing the other man's ear. "Taste."

Loki does not look away from what he is working on, tongue flicking out and licking away a few drops of the bisque Steve has traced over his lips. Steve waits patiently; a few seconds later, Loki's eyes flick away from the laptop screen long enough for him to find the spoon and properly sample, before returning to work.

Steve waits a few more moments.

"Oh," Loki says, finally stirring, mind pulling back from thinking and overthinking. "That is quite good."

Steve smiles.

XXXXXX

When he was growing up, his family never had very much. His mother was a single parent and a nurse with all that entailed; Steve got used to making do with what little they had, waiting up late with what he could cook.

Now that he is older, he doesn't lack for money. Though his mother isn't sure of the specifics of his job—only that he works for the government, some branch he's not allowed to tell her about—he makes sure she is well taken care of and visits when he can. He spends what he doesn't send her or use to pay his modest bills on food and Loki.

That the two might as well be the same does not bother him. Steve enjoys food, and he enjoys sharing it.

XXXXXX

Before he counted time in weight (but not much before) he remembers first meeting Loki. He only knew him as Thor's brother: sharp cheekbones, sharper eyes, and the sharpest tongue. He'd been recruited—apparently he had managed to do several 'interesting' things to Stark's security, which had Stark ready to either go down on one knee or strangle him (Steve wasn't sure) and garnered the higher ups' attention.

He imagines Thor probably had a little to do with that—the strength of Thor's sincerity is a force all it's own.

That first meeting had hardly been anything—a quick, thorough explanation of how some new equipment functioned before being sent into the field. He remembered being fascinated by how Loki moved his hands as he spoke, how his eyes were distant and would focus suddenly on his audience, and how very expressive his face was.

It was later, when he returned the equipment in one piece, that he had asked if Loki would like to get something to eat.

Loki had looked at him oddly, said 'no,' and then ignored that Steve had ever asked.

Later, when Steve mentioned it to Thor, Thor had spoken to him at length about not asking people to dinner or forcing food on people. It had left Steve entirely confused how ferocious Thor was on the point, considering he had never said anything to Steve before when Steve would invite _him_ out.

XXXXXX

The first time Loki ate with Steve was also right after the first time they ended up fucking (Steve is entirely aware that the first few times were definitely not 'making love' or 'having sex' or anything even remotely gentle—anything remotely like now).

"Wanna get something to eat?" Steve had asked, watching Loki straighten his shirt, slight frown on his face as he tried to arrange his collar so the darkening bruises weren't visible. It was like watching a magic trick, seeing all the rumpled, debauched evidence smooth into a perfectly tailored mask again—or at least close.

Loki's eyes had flicked to look at Steve in the mirror, frown deepening, and then shrugged, a ripple that Steve had a hard time not following with his eyes in favour of keeping Loki's gaze.

"Why not," paired with a smirk.

XXXXXX

"What," Thor demanded three weeks (three encounters in the backseats of cars, one rather interesting one in a storage closet, and one that had ended up back at Loki's place—a first) later, "are you doing?"

Steve blinked at Thor.

"He's _eating_," Thor added, as if that would make it clearer. "He has gained weight. He hasn't gained weight in... a very long time."

"Um. I'm not sure?" Steve thought some, but while Loki tended to be easily distracted and eat little, Steve hadn't necessarily seen too terribly much odd. Other than the whole being easily distracted from eating. And he hadn't noticed any weight. "I just ask if he'd like to get something to eat when I see him."

Thor glared at him suspiciously, some wary hope mingling with it.

He _thinks_ that's when time became pounds and ounces instead of hours and minutes.

XXXXXX

If Steve were the sort to make charts, he suspects Loki's weight would look something like a graphed polynomial. Stark or Banner would probably want to find the exact coefficients and exponents to match everything, but Steve knows only the general shape—a sudden rise up until it hovers-hovers-hovers, the apex before it begins to fall, and then a sharp crash that pans along until it begins to rise once more. At least, that's what it would like since Steve started to pay attention.

He's not the sort to make charts though.

He _is _the sort to feel. His hands know weight. He already had a knack for it from working for a butcher when he was a teen to help ends meet; that he finds new use for it with Loki is... he's not sure really. Not sure at all.

Steve realized long before Loki that whatever they had, that they'd both been insisting was really nothing, might be something after all.

Steve came back to four pounds and three ounces lighter (thirteen days). He stayed for three pounds gained (twelve days), and as he ran his fingers along the bumps of Loki's spine in bed he admitted it to himself.

It was safer to think about nothing become something while Loki slept, in the dark where dreams were safe and there was no light to make them vanish.

XXXXXX

Steve tended (still tends) to offer food to everyone. If he wasn't off an assignment, he would cook at home and bring it in; it was a matter of course that he would eventually end up in the labs.

And, yeah, Thor had told him not to force food on people, but offering and being told 'no' was hardly forcing.

Loki never took anything. Provided he wasn't distracted—he often was, Steve had never met anyone whose mind worked so fast and so often and on so _much_—Loki would frown at Steve like he thought Steve were a particularly persistent cat seeking affection before declining. Steve never took it personally, just like he didn't take it personally that Loki only seemed willing to eat at specific restaurants.

He still asked.

"Do you want a pine cookie?"

Loki's eyes flicked over to him briefly, registered he was there, and then went back to the monitors he was studying. Steve waited and watched Loki work and wondered how Loki had managed to make it through the mandatory field training all operatives had to go through.

Of course, he mused, when you could tear holes through Stark's security like it was cheap paper the tests probably weren't quite so rigorous.

"Steve! Are those cookies?"

"Yes, made them last night. Would you like one?" He opened the container and offered it to Thor.

"Thank you." Thor grinned at him, carefully selecting one of the cookies made to look like pine bark, before returning the container to Steve. Loki's full attention was directed at them when Steve looked at him once more. "What are you doing in here, at any rate?"

"I had stopped by to see if Loki wanted one."

Loki frowned though not particularly irritated, and Steve was expecting him to say no until Loki's eyes flicked away from Steve to Thor. The frown turned to scowl and irritated; he snagged the tupper from Steve, plucking one out and examining it briefly before taking a bite.

Steve blinked at Loki, then glanced over at Thor. Thor was staring thunderstruck at his brother, mouth open.

"Oh," Loki said, staring at the cookie and licking some of the icing off his lips, "this is quite good. Is there some kind of pine in this?"

"Spruce," Steve told him, grinning brightly.

XXXXXX

That was seven pounds (nineteen days) ago.

Steve has no idea if there are ounces or if he's even quite right; it doesn't matter. He's most interested in the taste of Loki's mouth, in strength that is pushing back against him, in all the ways Loki is solid and real and all the ways Steve is _not dead_.

He's surprised, when he tears Loki's shirt trying to get it off, that Loki isn't thinner, that it's _only_ seven pounds (nineteen days) because during that seven pounds was three hours that felt like months, _years_. He's surprised, when Loki knocks him on the floor and straddles him, that it's not more like _twenty_ pounds, maybe more, definitely more because Steve is sure _he's _lost years of his life in that adrenaline rushed three hours.

He doesn't let that thought keep going, doesn't follow how much weight is involved to measure a full year; he flips them over, grinds down against Loki, palms Loki's sides as Loki's nails rake down his back, and loses himself in _here_ (in _only_ seven pounds).

XXXXXX

Later, they feed each other in the kitchen floor, draped in each other's laps. Steve uses surface ache of the night before and deep ache of muscle fatigue to distract himself because right now it's morning, it's light, and even if there's something here he doesn't dare give it voice, not with the look in Loki's eyes, not with how shaken they both are, and Steve wonders if he ever will, if _they _ever will.

When asked he _says _that there's nothing, agrees with Loki, even though they both know it's not true, touch and taste giving them away.

XXXXXX

One day, he hopes to say _I'll see you later_ and later only be fractions of an ounce.


End file.
